Tricksy
by Lonestarr
Summary: She cannot explain herself, for she is not herself.
1. Girl Trouble

Disclaimer: "The Fairly Oddparents". You know how it goes.

Chapter 1 - Girl Trouble

The cafeteria is abuzz with the usual pre-teen chatter: homework, what they did last night, who they think is cute, homework, what they're going to do tonight, homework, who they don't like very much and, of course, homework.

A girl walks through the crowd, a tray in her hands. She has a plaid skirt, a white shirt, a black vest and glasses. She has braces on her teeth and her dark hair is in pigtails. In looks and demeanor, this is not a girl to whom people pay a great amount of attention, even when it comes to getting picked on.

On her tray is...well, it hasn't been classified by science, yet. The twelve-year-old girl had sometimes wondered why this was served at least three times a week. 'They must get this really cheap', she thinks to herself with a grimace.

She stops near a table occupied by a trio of young boys. One of them shuffles through some papers. The girl can't help but wonder why the boy with no hair would worry about homework during lunch...but if it takes his mind off of the food, more power to him. Another boy, one with braces, shovels the food down. Given the law of averages, there has to be someone who'd enjoy it.

The girl focuses on the boy in the silly pink hat. She takes a huge gulp and walks to the table. The boy laughs at a joke, one the girl most likely missed. She stands before the party of three. She clears her throat. He shifts his head to the right and stops laughing.

"Hello, Tootie." His tone suggests that he's quite annoyed, like he's been through this before and would rather have teeth pulled than go through it again.

"H-hi, Timmy." To hear her stammer, one would barely guess that she nurses a monster crush on him.

"Is there something you want?" The query is tainted with impatience.

"Um...yes. I was wondering if you...if you would..." She bites her lip and pokes at it with her braces. "Ow! Um, if you would like to do something sometime."

"Oh, I'd love to, Tootie, but I have this...thing to do at this place with this guy I met one time."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, I guess", he states dismissively.

Tootie walks away sadly. She takes two steps before she's bumped aside by a girl in a pink sweater and white skirt. Her dark hair flows down her back, with a pink headband giving it a bit of style. Given the smirk that develops on the prettier girl's face, that was no accident.

Timmy notices the girl in pink and stares intently at her. "Ahhhh. Trixie."

"Huh. Is it 11:53 already?" The bald boy checks his watch.

Trixie is joined by another girl. Her outfit is like that of a cheerleader (which is unusual, given that the school has no cheerleading squad) and her blonde hair is in a ponytail. She walks by, giving Tootie a little shove.

"Hey!" Tootie manages to keep her tray from falling, though, after considering the contents, would that be any great loss?

"Veronica, did you hear something?" Trixie looks around the cafeteria, including right through Tootie.

The blonde shakes her head. "No, I didn't." Veronica sounds genuinely concerned, like she honestly didn't hear anything.

Tootie adjusts her glasses, pushing them closer to her face. She glares at the two girls strolling by. What right did they have to (literally) push people around? Her eyes focus on Timmy, who stares at Trixie longingly.

She sits down at an empty table, still looking at the boy. She lets out a low growl. It didn't matter if anyone heard her or not; it's not like they ever did before when she'd do this.

The day passed rather uneventfully for the unpopular girl. She had problems concentrating on her classes. How could Timmy be so taken with Trixie? There's more to a girl than beauty. This got her into some trouble with the teachers. Luckily, she's a good enough student that her supposed flightiness could be attributed to the hard work she puts forth.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy runs into his house. His day was just as mundane. Focusing on his studies was a lost cause. His mind was, as ever, still on Trixie. That and he just barely cares about the classes.

He heads up the stairs and enters his bedroom. A smile graces his face. After a long, agonizing day of school, nothing can cheer him up quite like...

His face falls as he gazes upon the goldfish bowl on his night table. The _empty _goldfish bowl on his night table. Timmy lets out a small groan of disappointment. After all, goldfish bowls are supposed to have goldfish in them.

However, there is something special about Timmy's goldfish. They are, in fact, fairy godparents. Wands, wings, floaty crowny things and the like; able to grant any child's wish.

Timmy collapses on his bed and, with an "Ugh!", stares at the ceiling. This boring day is not gonna get any better any time soon.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie sits at the dinner table and stares at her plate sadly. She pokes her fork at the slice of meatloaf before her.

"Oh, sweetie. Aren't you hungry?" A woman with dark hair reaches over and massages Tootie's hand with her own. She can always be counted on for a kind word or helping hand.

"Not really, Mom." She sets the fork down.

The red-haired man at Tootie's left looks up from his nearly-empty plate. "How was your day, Toots?" Though more content to leave the heavy lifting to his wife, the man can be a firm source of support to his daughter.

The girl sighs. "Fine, Dad."

"Well, you sure don't sound fine." The woman's tone is instinctively concerned.

"Ah, she probably has a certain twerp in mind." The red-headed teenager at the end of the table cackles a little. She seems to revel in the misery of others, even if they are blood relatives. Two sets of parental eyes narrow in her direction. The cackling tapers off and the eighteen-year-old girl folds her arms.

Tootie's head rests in her hands. The adults turn back to her. The woman puts her hand on the girl's shoulder and kneads it. "Whatever is going on in your life, you have to understand that we'll be here to help you."

Though reassured, the girl is somewhat apprehensive about divulging the nature of her problem. "Thanks, Mom, but I think I'd like to be alone."

The girl ascends the stairs slowly. As she walks up:

"Vicky! What is wrong with you?"

"What? I'm the only one who knows what happening here? She's in love."

"And that's a reason to give your sister a hard time?"

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie gazes out of her window. With the twinkling stars splayed across, the night sky is luminous.

She walks to her bed and dives onto it, head first. She looks down at her backpack. Homework was not something she had to worry about; more often than not, she got to work on it the moment she got home from school.

She rolls over and stares at the ceiling. Her sullen expression changes to an angry one. "Every single day this happens."

Tootie leaps off of the bed. "Always drooling over that stupid Trixie Tang."

She storms toward the window. A shooting star falls through the sky. It does not go unnoticed by the brunette.

"I wish...nah." A wistful tone soon changes to one of derision. With a wave of the hand, she turns back toward the bed. "That's a dumb idea. I could never get Timmy to like me, no matter what I try."

Tootie takes off her glasses and slips under the covers. She puts her glasses on the table beside her bed. Her hand switches off the lamp. "It's like the only way to win Timmy's heart is if I could be like Trixie Tang."

The girl yawns slightly, her head hitting the pillow. "I wish...!"

As she closes her eyes, a shadow casts over the twelve-year-old girl. The figure seems to have a crown floating just off its head and the outline of a wand waves slightly.


	2. New Wrinkles

Chapter 2 - New Wrinkles

The sun shines brightly through the window of Timmy's bedroom. He turns a little in his bed and groans. He doesn't seem ready to get up yet, but then this is Saturday morning, when one has a right to stay in bed.

His goldfish bowl explodes with life as two fish swim from out of the plastic castle. No sooner do they emerge than the container fills with smoke. Twin streams of mist rise out and materialize into a pair of small creatures. One of them - the one with somewhat messy green hair - wears a white shirt, black pants and a tie. The other - whose hair is done in a swirly pink bouffant - wears black pants and a yellow shirt.

With a smile, the two of them float down to Timmy. They look toward each other and take a breath.

"Good morning!", they shout in unison. This garners the desired effect from the twelve-year-old boy: a loud shout and a leap from the bed onto the floor, his legs entangled in the sheets.

"Yeah, right." Timmy's tone suggests that he wasn't in any mood for such a rude awakening.

"Sorry about that, sweetie...", blushed the pink-haired creature. "...but we needed to get your attention." Her somewhat high voice lilts with a motherly concern.

Timmy pulls the bedding from his feet. "About what?"

"About last night's fairy meeting." The being with green hair sounds quite animated, like a small child with a brand new toy. "They had the most delicious hors d'oeuvres." He licks his lips for effect.

"Is that all?" By this point, exasperation creeps into Timmy's voice as he stands up.

The female shoots a look to her counterpart. "More importantly, _Cosmo_, there was also the matter of a rogue."

"A rogue?" For the first time today, the boy seems interested in what's happening.

"Yeah, like in the comic books." Cosmo pulls out his wand and points it at the female, who closes her vibrant pink eyes as the magic beam envelops her. When she opens them, they are now green. She flies over to the mirror on the closet door. Her pink hair is now brown with white bangs in front. Her outfit is now a yellow bodysuit. "Nice hair, Wanda." She can't help but glower a little as she flies toward him.

"Thanks, but I never liked the brunette look." Wands grabs the front of Cosmo's shirt and plants her lips onto his mouth. His fingers curl up from dehydration and he falls to the floor.

Timmy rushes to Cosmo's side. The fairy twitches a little. It's best not to tamper with your wife's appearance without her permission. "Will he be all right?", he states with more curiosity than worry.

Wanda waves her wand over herself, allowing her old self to return. "In a while."

"Now, about this rogue..."

"It's more like a rogue fairy." Wanda waves her wand. A file appears before the group. Paper-clipped to the cover is a shot of a scowling fairy holding a plaque across his chest. The numbers on it read '0773H'. "Apparently, he's on the loose granting wishes that shouldn't be granted."

"Sounds weird, but I'm sure it's nothing you two can't handle." Timmy walks toward his door.

"Actually, we're going to need your help on this."

Timmy stops in his tracks and lets out a sigh. "What would I have to do?"

"Just keep your eyes open for anything unusual; at school, on the street."

"I'll do my best."

"We know you will, honey."

Cosmo opens his eyes and shakes his head. "Wanda, I thought I was 'honey'." There is naive concern bordering on worry in his statement.

She smacks her head. "Oh, right." She points to Cosmo. "You're 'honey'..." Her finger shifts over to Timmy. "...and you're 'sweetie'."

The boy smiles a little. "Glad we got that cleared up."

XxXxXxXxX

A lump covered in bedsheets sits atop Tootie's bed. The girl wasn't much for sleeping directly under the covers, but - as it does to the best of us - her body sometimes moves of its own accord.

_"Tootie, dear, time for breakfast!"_, her mother calls up to her. Given the distinctly feminine groans coming from underneath, the girl obviously had plans to occupy her bed for quite some time. On the other hand, the smell of pancakes and sausage (which she could always detect even on the house's second story) is just too seductive.

Tootie hops out of bed, making a surprising 'thump' on the floor next to her bed. She shrugs it off, even though she hadn't made that noise before. One thing she can't ignore is the feeling of vertigo that hits her after the 'thump'. A person with a low center of gravity shouldn't possess that sensation, should they? She grabs her glasses and walks to the door.

The lights illuminate the bathroom just a few doors from her room. She grabs her toothbrush from the rack beside the mirror, though it didn't seem as much a reach as before. She applies the toothpaste and begins brushing. After a rinse and spit, she smiles, but more to bare her teeth than for happiness.

She lets out a low sigh. Just how much longer would these braces have to be on? Her teeth seem to be plenty straight as it is.

Tootie walks back to her bedroom. She gazes at the full-body mirror on her closet door. 'Full-body mirror'. What a joke. This was for people who just had to care how they look every moment of every day. So why does she have one?

She's just an ordinary girl, with an ordinary hairstyle and an ordinary complexion and an ordinary look. Her glasses hide her natural beauty (or accentuate it; eye of the beholder and all), her figure is pretty normal and her legs go on forever...at least as much as a twelve-year-old girl's...can.

The brunette looks down at her legs. They certainly weren't this long when she went to sleep last night. She wasn't one for nosebleeds or fainting, but given this sudden change, Tootie looks to be five seconds away from either action. Just when she seems to make a choice, a knock at her door brings her back to reality.

_"Tootie, your breakfast is getting cold."_

The girl snaps her head toward the door. It opens and her mother walks in.

"Now what is so important that you'd miss breakfast?" Though her hands are on her hips, her expression is one of mild displeasure.

"Mom, something very weird is happening here."

"What is it?"

"Well..." Tootie stretches her arms out and gestures to her legs, which seem to be eight inches longer than they used to be. Much to the girl's surprise, her mother starts laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Tootie, this is just puberty. You're becoming a woman." The girl grimaces; some years ago, she overheard her mother talking to Vicky. Her sister complained of severe aching...and unnatural bleeding. The phrase 'becoming a woman' was present in that conversation, as well.

"Oh, not like that." The woman walks her daughter to her bed and sits down with her. "Not for a while at least", she murmurs quickly. "You know, I was also kind of short as a girl, then one day, I woke up with a little more downstairs...and a lot more upstairs." She chuckles at the memory, but Tootie seems to miss the euphemism.

The woman rubs her back with her hand. "These things are a part of growing up. They're to be embraced, not feared."

Tootie sighs. "I guess."

"Yeah. Now let's go downstairs. I only made so many pancakes and you know how your father gets." The two of them stand up and go to the door.

XxXxXxXxX

Nothing says 'lazy Saturday' quite like wandering around the mall, except perhaps planting one's butt in front of the television for cartoons.

Timmy rides the escalator to the lower level. He steps off of the moving staircase and heads for the comic book store. The spring in his step and the smile on his face suggest that he is particularly elated about being here today.

He goes into the store and saunters toward a comic rack. The hand-written sign announces 'new material'. The boy plucks a copy of "The Crimson Chin" off of the rack. No wonder he seems so happy.

He starts to open it, but hesitates. One problem that Timmy has with comics is that when he ends up reading it in the store, he has no desire to buy it. Why buy something you already tried out?

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy walks out of the store, "Crimson Chin" comic in hand. Given the expression on his face, waiting is not an option when it comes to reading it. Without thinking, or stopping his walk, he buries his face into the book. Of course, it's hard to see where you're going in a situation like this.

"Wow. Picking up from the last issue. 'You're reign of terror ends here, Farm Boy.'" In the book, the Chin rears his fist back. 'BAM!'

Timmy is knocked onto the ground. He rubs his head and looks at the person in front of him.

"Trixie?" Indeed it is, with several shopping bags askew on the floor around her.

The Asian girl gasps. "You", she states in surprise. "You!" Now batting for surprise is anger.

Timmy stands to his feet. "Yes."

"I know you." She waves her hand around. "What's your name? I see you in school all the time. You're always at my locker..."

"Timmy." He extends his hand to her. "Timmy Turner."

She slaps his palm away. "No, that's not it."

"But it is. Let me help you up."

"I can get up on my own, thank you." She practically growls the last two words.

He looks down at her. "Fine. I was just trying to help."

Timmy walks away. Trixie plants her hands flat on the ground and pushes herself up. She stands to her feet and dusts herself off. She gathers the bags - three in each hand - and looks at Timmy. Her angry expression softens to one of sympathy, almost like she feels remorse for snapping at him.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie stands in front of her mirror. The first time this morning, it was out of regularity turned fear. This time, it is because of morbid curiosity. She looks herself over; is this really her?

She never thought of herself as gangly, but her increased height may argue otherwise. Girls this tall were usually plain Jane types. Tootie feels a sudden pang. She grabs her head and rears back a little.

A more confident expression is on her face. She walks out of her room.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie sits in front of her mother's vanity mirror. She applies lipstick to her lips. The girl purses her lips and licks them a little. "Wow." She looks at the side of the container. "Now these _are_ kissable lips."

The bedroom door opens. "Tootie, what are you doing in here?"

"Well, I was just...coloring...with my lips."

The girl's mother cocks her head a little and walks over. "Don't worry. It's a natural impulse for girls to wanna try on make-up."

"Mom..." The woman stands her up.

"But you really should ask first. Besides, looks aren't everything."

"Yes, mom." Tootie's mother walks out of the bedroom. The girl is halfway out the door, herself. She looks back at the cosmetics table.

She rushes back and grabs a little brush. "This blush would look killer on me." She happily applies the blush to her cheeks. This is quite unusual, as Tootie is seldom, if ever, one to disobey her parents.


	3. Off Balance

Chapter 3 - Off Balance

If Saturday is a lazy day in the eyes of a child, then Sunday is absolutely comatose. Timmy has been walking around Dimmsdale for the past few hours.

It would be so easy to cure this boredom with a little magical assistance. Unfortunately, Cosmo and Wanda were absent from the bowl when he woke up this morning. They left a note, however: 'At another meeting. Will see you later.' This rogue fairy must really be a 'Def-Con 4' situation to separate a child from his fairies.

Timmy stalks down Baxter Street. A lot of history resides on this pavement. For example, the foot of the tree the young man is passing is the very spot where, thirty years ago, the winner of the Dimmsdale Hot Dog Eating Contest lost his lunch after (seemingly) successfully ingesting 116 franks in only five minutes. Also, the street lamp only a couple of yards away is the same one that a marathon runner crashed into while carrying the torch through for the 1984 Olympics. The man left quite a dent, but it was smoothly buffed out.

The boy passes by an antique shop. There are several items decorating the front window, such as an old rocking chair and what appears to be a first edition copy of Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises".

With a scoff, Timmy turns away from the ancient display. He may be bored out of his skull, but there is no way he's going to set foot in an antique shop to rid himself of boredom. No way, no how.

XxXxXxXxX

The rays of the sun peek into the window of an expansive bedroom. The figure under the sheets stirs. The silken covers fly off the head of the bed. Trixie stretches her arms and lets out a strong yawn. There's nothing like a good nap to help one relax. She rubs her eyes to clear her vision. The view in front of her is a blur.

Her hands grind in her eyes once more. Things are still fuzzy. She starts to whine nervously as she shakes her hands, unsure of what to do.

"Mom!", the rich girl wails.

A woman of medium height and Asian descent rushes into the room.

"Oh, honey, what's the matter?" She takes her daughter's hands.

Trixie looks up at her mother, who appears clear as a bell, than toward the open door, where things are clouded.

"Something's wrong with my eyes." Aside from the apparent, there are tears present, as well.

"You're not going blind, are you, 'cause we'll find a donor in no ti--"

"No. It's like...well, I can see you just fine, but things look so fuzzy far away."

"Oh." Mrs. Tang cares deeply for her daughter, even though she sometimes feels the need to throw money at a problem to solve it, a trait that Trixie shouldn't be learning, even inadvertently. "Well, it just sounds like you need glasses."

"Glasses! Mom, I can't! My reputation will be ruined!" Trixie grabs her mother's arm, on the verge of hysteria. To someone, for whom, reputation is important, this is perfectly understandable.

"Trust me, you don't want to go through life squinting at everything."

"Can't I squint and still be popular?"

"This is not open for debate. You're going for an eye exam first thing tomorrow." Of course, Mrs. Tang can be a firm parent when she wants. She walks out of the room.

Trixie groans as she gets out of bed. She takes a few casual steps...and falls to the floor. She looks back at her foot, which is caught on a stuffed teddy bear. The rich girl gazes at the toy.

"How in the world did I miss that?"

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy looks around. He can't believe he's in an antique shop. Hemming and hawing for twenty minutes on a Sunday can yield unusual results. The teenaged boy at the front counter seems even more surprised. With the exceptions of people who seemed to be around when the merchandise was new, customers are a rare thing at the shop and it's a wonder the place has stayed open as long as it has.

The boy gazes at a pair of swords propped against the wall. He reaches his hand up to touch them.

The clerk's brown eyes aim toward the visitor. "Uh, little dude. You're not supposed to touch that."

Timmy pulls his hand down, a sour look on his face. He continues on to a mirror. Given the thin streaks made in the dust, someone has been over this piece as early as yesterday.

The dark-haired teenager returns to his magazine. It is one devoted to the art of popular music. The look on his face suggests that he could care less about what goes on in the store.

He turns a page and his eyes goggle. On the page is a beautiful model. For guys like him, it was cruel to have to look at her and know that this is as close as he'll ever get to her. Maybe things will turn around for him when he starts college in the fall. It doesn't matter what she's selling (some new product guaranteed to give your hair more lift, in case you were wondering). He would still like her company.

As Timmy walks away from the mirror, a figure appears in the reflection, hazy from the dust. A figure with what appears to be a magic wand...

The teenager sighs. "What I wouldn't give to wake up to a body like this."

Timmy sets a needle on a phonograph. The wand waves. In a puff of smoke, the figure disappears from view.

The old time melody is upbeat, laden with horns...and loud. So loud that the moans from the front of the store are drowned out.

The young man closes his eyes and starts to yell in a voice that gets higher with each moment. Whatever is happening, he seems to be in a good deal of pain. As his thin lips gain an unusual fullness, he falls behind the counter.

Timmy, meanwhile, snaps his fingers to the beat, a smile on his face. He wasn't much for the older variety of music - namely, the kind without words - but he has to admit that this is a catchy tune.

A hand grips the edge of the counter. Strangely enough, it is a hand with a French manicured tips. A feminine figure rises from where the teenager fell. A grunt escapes from ruby red lips as the woman stumbles to her feet.

She looks around, taking note of her surroundings. It's the antique shop, all right. The girl staggers around in a black dress that seems too small for her, taupe stockings that show off her long legs and a pair of red heels. Oh, and her long, blonde hair looks fantastic.

"Whoa." Her voice is a sultry whisper.

The utterance interrupts Timmy's jam session. Out of surprise, the boy knocks the needle away from the record.

The twelve-year-old takes in the sight of his guest. "Wow. You sure are pretty. Are you taking over from the guy who was here?"

"Ha. Very funny, little dude."

Timmy heads for the door. The woman staggers toward the record player and turns it off. She wanders toward the mirror and gazes into it. Her now blue eyes are transfixed by the reflection. Her hand wipes away the dust covering her face. A gasp comes from her mouth. She stares at the girl and looks down at her body.

One thing is certain: showering is going to become an interesting new experience.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie rummages through a bin in a thrift store. Her thinking is that she may need some new outfits, and since there isn't a lot in Vicky's closet to help her out (for some reason, the redhead isn't much into girly clothes), why not do a little shopping? A thrift store may seem an unusual place for this, but Tootie only had so much money in her piggy bank.

Her hands run across a purple angora sweater, just like the pink one so fancied by Trixie Tang. She rubs it, feeling the softness of the material.

"Oh, now that is nice." With a smile, she picks up the sweater and slings it over her shoulder.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie strolls down the street, a paper tote bag in her hand. Timmy approaches from the opposite direction, which stops her dead. She is a little nervous; this is the first time she's seen him since the growth spurt. What will he think of her, now? What did he think of her then? She takes off her glasses and puts them in the bag. She has always needed glasses, but, given the clear view ahead of her, they may become a thing of the past.

The girl takes a gulp and walks forward calmly. She passes by Timmy like he wasn't even there.

The boy takes a few steps. He does a double-take at the vision behind him. As fast as his legs will allow, he runs to catch up with the girl.

Tootie fails to acknowledge the person beside her. Timmy runs in front of her, stopping her from further movement.

"Um, hello." He does his best to mask his nervousness, but it's a struggle.

"Hi." She is calm and more than a little polite.

"So..." Tootie is on the edge of her non-existent seat. She can't wait to hear what he has to say to her.

"Are you new in town?", the boy asks with considerable eagerness.

The girl's eyes goggle a bit. She's wearing the same old outfit (plaid skirt, white shirt and black vest) and the same braces fill her mouth. Though her hair is down and her legs a few inches longer, she's the same old Tootie.

She looks away. "Um...yes, I am!"

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, it's pretty nice." She gives him a brief look of incredulity; he really doesn't know who he's talking to.

"What's your name?"

"It's..." She can't help but hesitate. She isn't ready to reveal herself just yet. Timmy is talking to her of his own accord. Who knows what might happen if she tells him who he's really talking to?

"What is it?"

"My name is Ginnie." No one at the school ever bothered to learn Tootie's real name, so insignificant she was considered to be. Her nickname comes from a family story that embarrasses her to no end. This has long overshadowed her birth name - Virginia.

The boy extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ginnie. I'm Timmy Turner."

'Ginnie' returns the gesture. "The pleasure is entirely mine."

Timmy cups her hand with his for a few moments. Then again, it is a soft palm, the softest he's felt in his short life.

"Um, sooner or later, I'm going to need my hand back."

The boy lets go of Ginnie's hand. He rubs the back of his head with it. "Sorry."

A giggle emerges from her mouth. "That's okay. I just know we're going to get along great." As she walks away, she turns and waves. "I'll see you around, Timmy."

"See you!" Timmy waves back. He turns and skips down the street merrily. He stops suddenly and looks around; someone might've seen him. He continues on his path walking normally.

XxXxXxXxX

Monday morning. A time dreaded by young kids everywhere. As soon as the final Friday bell sounds, they acclimate themselves to not being trapped in school. To enjoy all that the weekend has to offer...and then, they're back in school a couple of days later.

The kids of Dimmsdale Elementary trudge through the hallways. It is a sluggish period; not quite the beginning and not quite lunch. Timmy's smile is a sharp contrast to the collective of lethargy around him. Yesterday, he couldn't stop thinking about that Ginnie, that captivating girl from Baxter Street. He had no idea if he would see her again; where she went to school, where she hung out.

His eyes widen to dinner plates. There, getting a drink at the water fountain, is Ginnie, who looks very nice in her purple sweater and white skirt. Timmy clears his throat.

Ginnie turns around. "Oh, hello", she states with feigned surprise. "Timmy Turner, right?"

"Yes." Timmy gazes at the girl for a while.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

Timmy snaps out of his daze. "Oh, man, was I lingering again? I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You did nothing wrong." For Toot...Ginnie, every second she spends with Timmy is like a blissful eternity, so she has no problems with taking his time.

"Um...I don't do this very often, but you're really pretty and nice and I was wondering if we could go do something sometime." The boy quickly forces the words out of his mouth like so much literary vomit.

"Timmy, did you just ask me out on a date?"

The boy's nervous look becomes one of fear. "Yes", he squeaks.

Ginnie takes him in her arms. "Oh, I would love to!"

"Great. We could meet in the park around four."

"That sounds good."

Timmy runs off. "I'll see you later." He passes Trixie. "Hey, Trixie." He doesn't even stop for her. He _never_ doesn't stop for her.

Trixie approaches the new girl, apparently having seen the whole thing. Ginnie is about to walk off. Trixie taps her on the shoulder.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Ginnie turns around. "I beg your pardon?"

"The outfit: the sweater and the skirt." Trixie sniffs the sweater, shocking the "new" girl. "Ah-ha! It's not even from a designer label."

The girl puts her hands on her hips. "So, what, this is _your_ look, all of a sudden? You have a copyright on it?"

The rich girl extends her index finger. "It's still tied up in court, but, soon, it will be. It will be!"

"And, what, are those glasses part of the look, too?" Trixie, initially, resisted putting them on, but her mother started to say how this was the best thing for her. Halfway through the ride to school, she put on her glasses, surprised at how natural the feeling was to wear them.

Trixie gasps. She fumbles for her specs and takes them off. "Just stay away from my look..._and_ my not-boyfriend." She almost growls the last few words and walks off. Ginnie scoffs as she heads in the opposite direction.

XxXxXxXxX

Ginnie flips through her closet. It is hard for her to decide what gives her a bigger high: that she will soon be meeting Timmy for a date or that she stood up to Trixie Tang. She isn't one for low self-esteem, but she hadn't, at least not until today, possessed the nerve to take Trixie on. She pulls out an old outfit: a fancy blue skirt and a black top.

She tosses the clothing onto her backpack. Unusually, it hasn't been opened since she left school about a half-hour ago. For Ginnie, the thinking is that it would always be there to do later in the day.

XxXxXxXxX

Wearing the outfit, Ginnie strides out of her room toward the stairs. On her way, she passes an open bedroom, where Vicky reads a book on her bed. She doesn't look happy to be reading the book.

The red-head catches a glance at the girl outside her door. She rushes out to meet her.

"Well, if it isn't my even-though-she's-a-bit-taller, she'll-_always_-be-my little sister. Going somewhere?"

"Yes. I have a date."

"You...a date?" Vicky starts to chuckle. After a few moments, the chuckles graduate to full-fledged guffawing.

Ginnie folds her arms. "Are you quite done?"

Vicky puts her finger up. "Not quite." She lets out a few more laughs, then wipes a tear away. "Okay, now I'm done."

"I guess I had that coming. After all, you have _so_ much to teach me about dating..." Ginnie snaps her fingers. "Oh, that's right. You've never been on any dates. How silly of me." She usually lets Vicky have her way, but tonight, she is empowered to defend herself. It must be the puberty.

The dark-haired girl flips her hair and turns down the stairs. "See you later." She adds a wiggle-fingered wave to give an extra touch of condescension. Vicky stands in her doorway fuming.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy looks into his mirror and combs his hair. For a moment, it looks neat before reverting back to its somewhat messy form.

He walks to his bed and grabs the shirt lying on it. With a poof, his fairies appear in his room.

Wanda is the first to speak. "Timmy, did you manage to find anything on the rogue fairy?"

The boy puts on the shirt. He refuses to stand still, so excited is he. "I'm afraid not. But I did find something better."

The pink-haired fairy flies to keep pace with him. "What?"

"A pretty girl."

Wanda sighs. That's a twelve-year-old boy for you.

"That sounds nice." Cosmo can always latch on to a raft of good news in a river of bad news.

Timmy puts on his pink hat. It's amazing that he's had it for so long...and that he still wears it. "We've got a date today."

"Even considering the situation, don't you think you're moving a little fast? I mean, you only just met."

"Yeah, Wanda, but...it's like I feel something with her. Something electric. You know what I mean?" Timmy walks toward the exit.

"I do, Timmy, but..."

"Don't worry so much." With a warm smile, he closes the bedroom door.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy looks around the park from a bench. There are people running and sitting around, but none of the citizens match the description of the person he seeks. His eyes move to the cobblestone path. A smile threatens to split his face in two as he sees who's walking on it.

"I hope I'm on time." Ginnie smiles sweetly at the boy.

"You're here. That's 'on time' enough for me." Timmy's hope that the statement didn't sound quite as dumb as it did in his head is immediately dashed as embarrassment colors his face. Ginnie, however, giggles at the remark. It is probably a moot point; neither of them is wearing a watch.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Well, you're new in town. Maybe we could see the sights."

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Of course, she has lived in Dimmsdale her whole life, but there are worse ways to tour the town.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy and Ginnie had spent the next hour taking in some of what Dimmsdale had to offer: The Convention Center, The History Museum and the mall. Unsurprisingly, the most time was spent at the mall.

They stroll through the park, hand in hand. After some walking, they find the same bench on which Timmy was sitting when the date began.

"I must say, I had a wonderful time." Ginnie sits down.

"Thank you. So did I." Timmy joins her.

"I had no clue your town had so much to enjoy." Ginnie bites her lip a little out of guilt. She could never lie to him...not usually.

"It's kind of surprising, I know, but that's Dimmsdale for you."

Timmy looks toward the sun, which seems to be setting. He looks at Ginnie. "Isn't that sunset romantic?"

"Yeah, it kind of is." There is uncertainty to her words.

He gazes into her eyes, her soft violet eyes. His lips pucker. He moves in for the kill.

Ginnie stands up, which causes Timmy to fall onto the spot where she was sitting.

The boy picks himself up. "What's wrong? Oh, man, I'm moving too fast." The girl walks off, her nose in the air for some reason. "Wanda was right." Timmy looks as his dream girl leaves him, but, aside from being a bit forward, he can't understand why.


	4. Heightened Essences

Chapter 4 - Heightened Essences

Ginnie gazes at herself in the mirror on her door with soulful eyes. The memory of walking away from Timmy is fresh in her mind. In the fourteen hours since it occurred, it was all she could think about. The unusual thing about it is that she doesn't recall walking off of her own accord; it's like her heart wanted to stay, but her mind overruled it, forcing her body to act as such.

The girl squints a little at something in her reflection. She grabs her glasses off of the night table and puts them on. The style of her glasses wasn't something she was currently proud of; at six years of age, an unusual age to contract an astigmatism, she had thought, for some reason, that the '50s sock hop queen look was a good one. Her sight is incredibly blurry, equal to if someone coated the lenses in grease. She takes the spectacles off. Her vision is perfect. She tries the glasses on and off again two times. The same result: worse...better. Worse...better.

Ginnie's jaw drops a little. "What's happening to me?" Her voice sounds a lot smoother, like silk. A girl's voice can be pretty high, like hers once was and her hope was, sooner or later, that it would settle into a more manageable key.

She shakes her head, trying to ignore the weirdness. Her feet take her pacing around the bedroom. "Okay. Last night was pretty fun, at least until the end. I just need to apologize to Timmy. It's no problem." She smacks a fist into her open palm. "I will make this right."

XxXxXxXxX

There are a number of things in life that Timmy is unable to understand. Like how the cafeteria can get away with child abuse in serving their so-called meals, and the way that a treasured item is always around except when you really need it. At the moment, however, he can't help but wonder about the actions of the girl he had gotten to know so well.

He spies a drinking fountain and saunters toward it. The stream of water flows into his waiting mouth. After a few seconds of refreshment, he breaks away from the mini-oasis. Waiting right in his path is Ginnie. Timmy falls to the ground.

"Oh, sorry about that." With warmth in her voice, she extends her dainty hand to him.

He grabs it. "That's okay. It's good to see you again." She pulls him upright.

"Timmy, I had a wonderful time last night."

"So did I...at least, until the end." Timmy rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

Ginnie looks away ashamedly. "Oh...yeah."

"I know I might've been moving too fast. It's just that...I've never been on a real date with a girl before, and...well, the people in the movies make it look so easy; they can just kiss the girls and not get nervous. I want to apologize."

"Timmy..."

"I'm sorry, and I hope that this won't affect our friendship."

"Timmy, how could you ever believe that this would affect our friendship?" Ginnie looks into his eyes. Her violet pupils widen, like there's something going on in her head. Her coy face smooths out to form an expression of sternness. "Besides, who's to say we're even friends?"

The boy's jaw hangs open. "What?"

"You don't seem to understand. Let me spell it out for you: look at me...then, look at you. Can you imagine being seen with someone like you? What would people say?"

Timmy shakes his head. Every word out of her mouth is like a dagger in his back. "Ginnie..."

She puts two fingers to his lips. "No. Don't you dare make this harder than necessary. I don't want it to look like you dumped me."

Tears start to well up in the boy's blue eyes. "You're dumping me?"

"Think of it as giving you a chance, to go out with someone in your social circle." Ginnie turns and strides away. "I'm sure you'll find someone."

Timmy stares at the girl walking down the hall. Was this really the same nice girl he met a couple of days ago?

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy shuffles his feet on the sidewalk. Given the dark mood he currently experiences, taking the bus is not much of an option. He clutches his chest. There were a number of times when he'd heard about a person's heart breaking. He had shrugged them off as exaggerated figures of speech, but today, his heart really feels like two broken parts residing in his chest cavity.

So wrapped up in his loneliness is he, he fails to notice a redheaded woman sitting at a sidewalk cafe. She is quite lovely, even as she is crouched down at her table. On a plate rests the remnants of a tuna fish sandwich and in front of her is a bowl of vichyssoise...which she is lapping up with her tongue.

This morning, the woman was ready to leave for her job at a processing firm. Just as she reached for the doorknob, she glanced at her cat, Meadow. She loved her little calico and was grateful every day that her apartment allowed pets. The animal seemed to see a shadow of something on the windowshade. Meadow ran at it and crashed against the shade, falling to the floor. She shook off the injury and skulked away, jumping onto the table.

The woman, amused by the feline's antics, shook her head and walked out of her apartment, remarking, "Sometimes, I'd like to know what you're thinking."

The outline of a waving wand moved along the window shade. The woman had felt unusual urges over the course of the day, like hissing at obnoxious co-workers, grooming herself at her desk and purring at the cute guy on whom she had a cat's eye.

The woman continues at the soup. A younger man approaches her and places a slip of paper next to the bowl. "Your bill, miss."

She narrows her eyes and turns to the waiter, hissing at him. It could be because of the bill, or it could be that he is interrupting her meal.

The man looks at her. "Ma'am, I'm just trying to do my job." He turns and walks away. "There's no need to get catty." The restaurant does not pay the man enough to deal with this. Hopefully, his acting career will take off and end this pain.

The look of anger melts away and one of elation replaces it as the woman resumes her meal. A contented purr emanates from her lips.

XxXxXxXxX

Ginnie sits on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. The day was, to say the least, a jumble of good occurences and unhappy incidents. She wanted to apologize to Timmy this morning. Heck, the words formed and crystalized in her brain, ready to deliver it to her mouth, but they seemed to shatter on impact. She lets out a defeated sob. A knock at the door gets her attention.

"Is everything alright?" The woman on the other side of the door already knows the answer...

"No." It's just a lot better to hear the other person say it.

The door opens and her mom walks in, a laundry basket under her arm. "Oh, dear, what's wrong?" The woman puts the basket down and sits beside her daughter.

"This boy I really liked..._like_. I wanted to apologize for what happened last night, but it came out all wrong."

"What happened?"

"Well, we were on a date, and..."

The woman's soft expression changes to one of mild chagrin. "You never said you went on a date."

"Well, yeah." Ginnie gulps a little, every bit the girl caught in a lie.

"So what happened?" Her voice bursts with enthusiasm. Every now and again, the woman likes to engage in girl talk, something she never really did when she was in school. Vicky, as one would expect, has been very unreceptive to the idea.

"We were on a bench in the park..."

"Wait, you spent the date on a park bench?"

"No." Ginnie wipes her eyes. "That's where the date ended."

"Did he take you anywhere?"

"Yeah: the mall, the museum, the convention center."

"And then, on the park bench..."

"He tried to kiss me, but I just walked away from him."

"Oh, honey, you're too young to be playing hard-to-get. You don't wanna enter high school with a reputation, do you?"

An oh-so-brief smile cracks Ginnie's face. She doesn't really want a reputation...right? She shakes her head. "No, of course not", she replies haltingly.

"Good." The woman picks up the basket. "You just need to trust that things will work out." She heads for the door and walks out.

Ginnie walks toward her mirror, gazing at the girl in the reflection. _What am I doing? _She looks scared, like she doesn't recognize herself. _This isn't me._

She loses her footing and struggles to regain it. Her legs start to feel like gelatin. She takes a couple of steps and falls to the floor.

_Timmy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do. I...I..._

Ginnie plants her hands on the floor and pushes herself up. She strides to the mirror with great confidence. "I don't know what I'm so worried about." The girl checks herself out and purses her lips. "I'm a real catch", she states in a smooth, almost seductive voice. She flashes a bright smile, showing off her perfectly straight, brace-free teeth.

XxXxXxXxX

Trixie lies on her bed, staring at the canopy. This had been a day of firsts...many of them bad. She refused to wear her glasses in the hall, causing her to misread the signs on the restroom doors. The figures of the man and the woman can look so similar when your vision is messed up. Also, her singing practice had been a disaster. Twice a week, she hones her voice for a potential career, but her flawless pipes seemed to rust out. Her voice was unnaturally high and screechy.

If that wasn't enough, she tripped in the hallway after lunch. Making the situation worse were two factors: one, it happened in the middle of a crowded hallway and two, she seemed to trip over nothing. Among many other things, Trixie prides herself on her coordination and grace. Such an action does not reflect well on her social standing, such as it is.

The rich girl hops off of her bed and rushes to her closet. The spacious area is a walk-in closet containing her many articles of clothing. Presumably, they were being saved for something special, as her pink-sweater-and-white-shirt ensemble receives quite a daily workout.

She skips out with a book in her hands. She leaps onto the bed and opens the book, which reads 'Precious Memories' on the cover. Like a number of people at Dimmsdale Elementary, Trixie considered her experiences - the ones not involving her, anyway - anything but precious, but a feeling of warmth seems to overcome her as she flips through the pages.

She stops on a page and stares intently and longingly at something in the bottom right hand corner. It is a picture of Timmy. He looks surprised, like he hadn't expected someone with a camera to encounter him.

"Oh, Timmy. Someday you will be mine." She laughs, her teeth obscured by metal brackets. She hasn't needed braces a day in her life, but she smiles as if having them is the most natural thing in the world.


	5. Trail Mix

Chapter 5 - Trail Mix

The cafeteria is abuzz with the usual pre-teen chatter: homework, what they did last night, who they think is cute, homework, what they're going to do tonight, homework, who they don't like very much and, of course, homework.

A girl walks through the crowd, a tray in her hands. She has a plaid skirt, a white shirt, a black vest and glasses. She has braces on her teeth and her dark hair is in pigtails. The oddest thing about the ensemble, however, is the way it hangs on the girl: it's a little too tight on her and she seems pretty tall for the clothes. To compensate for this, she is hunched over, as if to appear shorter. She walks by holding a lunch tray containing the usual...something and occasionally steals glances at the more sociable students, wishing she were one of them.

Such is the life of Trixie Tang.

As she takes a breath, a painted hand comes out of nowhere and touches her shoulder. "Hey, Trixie!"

The brunette stops and coughs on her breath. She looks behind at the source of the exclamation:

"Veronica?" One would think that Trixie wouldn't be surprised by this. After all, the blonde has always been a little too bubbly for her own good. But Trixie does express surprise...and confusion. The look on her face suggests that she barely recognizes the girl at her side, and they've been friends ever since they could walk around each other's luxurious houses.

The two of them walk side by side. "So, what happened to you? I left, like, fifty messages on your machine last night." Which, of course, is down from the usual seventy-five. In spite of the overkill, Veronica sounds genuinely concerned.

"Well, I was looking for an outfit to wear today, and the time just got away from me." Her voice sounds suspiciously more nasal than it ever did.

Veronica sits down at a table. Trixie takes a couple of steps past it. It takes the blonde clearing her throat to alert the brunette. She pats a seat next to her. Veronica looks at Trixie incredulously as she sits down.

"And after all those hours spent looking, you give up and raid your Sunday School pile?" The blonde's hands are on her hips...at least, as best as possible in a sitting position.

"What do you mean? This outfit is truly 'me'."

"Would that be the 'me' that never gets invited to parties and ends up staying at home, crocheting?"

Trixie rubs her chin, like she's giving the latter option serious consideration. For the first time, Veronica notices that her friend has a tray in front of her. Her bright blue eyes goggle. "And why are you eating a school lunch?"

"Because I'm hungry?" It seems the most natural thing in the world to Trixie: if you're in school and it's lunchtime, a school lunch is logically, the way to go.

Veronica grimaces as the brunette dips her fork into the mini mound of...stuff. "Well, I'm not." The utensil full of food is merely inches away from her mouth.

Trixie gazes at the other end of the cafeteria. "Oh, my gosh!" She waves her hands, unsure of what to do.

"What is it? What's wrong?" All Trixie can offer is a gleeful expression. Veronica joins her gaze and her jaw drops.

At a table residing at the far end sits a handsome young man. He seems to be one grade above the awe-struck girls from the sight of him. Judging from his winning smile, sensitive eyes and non-threatening good looks, he seems to have a bright future ahead of him. His letter jacket (on loan from his equally celebrated brother) seems to confirm this. "Oh, Terry Tyler! He _is_ something special."

"What? No, not him!" Trixie points to the table across from the one with the bright future. The population tops out at one:

"Timmy Turner!" Everyone breaks away from their own business to stare at Veronica, who is understandably shocked at Trixie's taste. Given the current situation, shock will have to wait; mortification is the order of the day.

The blonde lets out a nervous giggle and darts her eyes around; she needs a way out of this. She turns toward the young man. "Hey, Timmy Turner! Yoo-hoo!"

The boy doesn't react. He rests his head on his open palm. A sigh escapes his mouth.

The people return to their affairs, almost like the outburst never happened. Veronica turns to Trixie. "How can you be staring at Timmy Turner?", she demands in a whispered yell.

"He's so cute."

"He's a dork!"

"Well, that's your opinion." Trixie sighs as she stares at Timmy. However, he is staring at someone a couple of tables in front of him.

In no time at all, it seems that the girl at the table has gathered a number of followers. They would do her homework, carry her books and, as they're doing right now, sit around admiring her. She buffs her fingernails on her beautiful sweater. There's no doubt about it: Ginnie Flanagan is having the time of her life.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy trudges down the sidewalk, a sullen look on his face. The only thing he can think about is Ginnie. It had been this way all day. Thanks to her posse, he couldn't get within five feet of her. The boy has never been much for crying, but he is very much on the verge. He stares at the ground as he moves, but it's like he's detached from his surroundings. Sure, his feet are doing battle with a piece of newspaper rolled into a ball, but he doesn't really notice it.

Speaking of things he doesn't really notice, a beautiful woman wearing a halter top, running shorts and a headband jogs past him. Her long, flowing blonde hair bounces behind her, as do...other things, elsewhere. She is already reasonably thin, but one does have to keep one's body in shape...especially when the body is being borrowed/occupied by a teenage slacker who wished to wake up to it. Timmy sniffs a little, not so much out of sadness, but to notice the blonde's liberally applied perfume. It does nothing to end his funk; strawberries and vanilla usually work.

Timmy stops at a street corner, watching as a couple of cars pass him. His gaze meets the electronic sign across the way. He taps his foot waiting for the red right hand to be replaced by the funny little man. A group of sparrows wings past Timmy's head, but they do not faze him. Coming at him is a red-haired woman running jerkily. Her hands are closed like paws and she rushes around the boy. Again, he is disaffected. The woman returns to Timmy and starts pawing him. She mewls as she rushes off.

He makes his way across the street. In the distance, some kids are rushing toward him. They're laughing, cheering happy kids. What's more, they're all in clothes too big and too traditional for them, as if they were playing dress-up with their grandparents' wardrobe. One would even think that the expression, "If only we could have as much energy as these kids today." would come into play.

Timmy doesn't pay any attention to the kids that swarm around him, nor to the fact that they are running from the Dimmsdale Back in My Day...Give it a Rest Home for Wayward Seniors. A strange and unwieldy name, to be sure, but the contractor needed a name for it upon its inception forty years ago and he happened to catch an argument between one of its first inhabitants and his irritated son.

The twelve-year-old continues down the sidewalk. The bus was his usual mode of transportation, but his current attitude makes him insufferable to other people. Out of the corner of his left eye, he notices something glowing behind the brush. He moves the grass aside and finds a lock of hair. The follicles seem to be in the shape of a four-leaf clover. With a humorless smile, he picks up the lock and puts it in his pocket.

"Man, do I need some luck."

XxXxXxXxX

"I'm home!" Ginnie strides through the front door of her house. No one answers her. She walks up the stairs and to her bedroom. Her hand reaches out to turn the knob.

The door to Vicky's room slams open. "You! Me! Now!" The older girl has a fire in her eyes to match the color of her hair. Ginnie turns around, her arms folded.

"Yes, is there something you need: grace, a boyfriend..." Vicky is only centimeters from Ginnie's face. "...a mint?" The brunette waves her hand in front of her nose.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you'd better remember your place! Sooner or later, you'll pay for your attitude!"

"_My_ attitude?" Ginnie starts to chuckle. Vicky watches as her chuckle becomes a loud laugh. "I'm not the one with a king-sized chip on their shoulder for who-knows-what. Things don't go your way? Well, that's too bad, _sis_. That's what's known as life. And another thing, little miss defense mechanism, it's my attitude that's gotten me loads of admirers. Your attitude, on the other hand..." The red-haired girl's lip starts to quiver. Her eyes fill with liquid.

"I..."

The younger girl gives a half-smile. "Well, this has been nice, but I have people to call." Ginnie turns around for her room. Vicky wipes her eyes and rushes to her dwelling.

XxXxXxXxX

Vicky sighs as she glances at her reflection in her full length mirror. The sadness in her eyes is all too apparent. For much of her life, she has been angry at the world. When you have a particular outlook on things, one that not a lot of people agree with, it's not much of a mystery. Adding to her misery is the fact that her sister earned more love attention than she did. The gestures that prove this were seldom overt, but she could just tell: the way that Ginnie's good grades in school were greeted with more celebration than hers, for one thing. One might argue that one problem was caused by the other.

Another issue was her lack of a social life. Babysitting kids isn't exactly a magnet for guys. While not a knockout, she is in no way unattractive. She considered it unusual that her body would be so...unimpressive. There are eighteen-year-olds stalking runways of Milan and Prague. Why would they be so gifted and not her? Her soft expression twists at this.

Vicky growls as she throws her shirt off. She adjusts the strap of her bra. "Why couldn't I have a killer figure?"

A shadow of a wand waving reflects on Vicky's wall as she heads to her dresser.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy enters his room, tossing his backpack aside. His goldfish perk up and assume their true forms of Cosmo and Wanda.

"Hey, there, sport. How was school?"

"Horrible. I tried to talk to Ginnie, but she just ignored me." He plops down on his bed. "You were right, Wanda. I was moving too fast."

"Oh, Timmy, don't feel too bad. You're still young."

"Yeah. You'll have plenty of chances to fall in love, and have your heart bro..." A glare from his wife cuts off the green-haired fairy. He chuckles nervously.

"Did you happen to spot anything out of the ordinary today? That rogue's still out there."

The boy shrugs. "No. Nothing too strange." Timmy isn't exactly lying. He was too down in the dumps to really notice the weirdness he encountered on his way home. "I did, however, find this clover." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the lock. "Maybe I can find a leprechaun...or stop one. I don't know."

The pink-haired fairy stares at the piece of hair. "Timmy, do you know what this means?"

"That one of those pesky leprechauns found his way over here from Ireland? We had a deal!"

Wanda sighs. "No. That's not a clover. It's a lock of hair."

"Huh. I should've guessed it wasn't a clover. It was glowing, for one thing."

"A glowing lock of hair. I think we may have something." She waves her wand and the file on the rogue fairy appears before them. The black-and-white shot on the cover is now a color picture. The scowl on the ne'er-do-well's face remains, however. Wanda pays close attention to his dark green hair. She looks to the 'clover' and back to the picture. "It's a perfect match."

"If only we had some way to track this fairy down."

Cosmo waves his wand. The puff of smoke disappears. Wanda's hair is now long and red, accentuated with a headband. Her outfit is now a purple dress with green trim. Timmy has a green shirt and brown pants. His hair is shaggier than it once was. Cosmo is now a Great Dane, his wand in his mouth.

"And how is this supposed to help us out?" Wanda has a hand on her hip.

Cosmo drops the wand from his mouth. "I ran rack it rown."

"Like, wouldn't we need a bloodhound to track stuff down?" Timmy's voice now has a high rasp to it.

"Ro?

"You're a Great Dane."

"Roops." He shrugs and puts up his paws.

Wanda waves her wand, causing another puff of smoke. The three are back to normal.

Timmy gets up from his bed. "Maybe if we had a tracking device for fairies. I wish I had one of those."

Another wave of Wanda's wand. An electronic device materializes in Timmy's hands. He searches the item for an 'on' switch of some kind. He finds it on the back and turns it on. The monitor starts to beep. "I'm picking up a signal." As Timmy turns around, the beeps come quicker.

Timmy stops on a figure. He takes the machine from his face, revealing...Cosmo. "Hi, Timmy!"

The boy sighs. "Well, at least we know it works. Where did you get this?"

XxXxXxXxX

With its open books, papers tousled every which way and blueprints, this is very much the bedroom of someone of considerable intelligence, if not someone who takes the time to be organized.

The door flies open. "Mother!"

_"Yes, sweetie?"_, the woman sing-songs in a worn high voice.

A spindly geek of a man rifles through his bookshelves and loose papers. "Have you seen my fairy finder, patent pending?" The last part is stated quietly, like an afterthought or a commercial.

_"Sorry, honey. No, I haven't."_

"Great." The word is growled out. He continues to search his room. "Fairies are behind this. I just know it." Among the things that Denzil Crocker really despises: fairies, being mocked and, at this moment in time...irony.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy looks into the monitor of the finder. "I just need to find a way to feed the hair sample into this thing." The boy feels around the bottom and finds a slot. He pulls it out, revealing a little Petri dish. Wanda hands him the lock and Timmy plucks a strand from it. It goes into the device and...nothing happens.

After a couple of seconds, it starts to beep. "We got something."

_"Timmy!"_

The finder in hand, Timmy runs from his bedroom. He peers over the banister. A woman meets his gaze.

"Mom. You're home early."

"Yes. It was a pretty good day at work." She puts down her briefcase. "You'll never guess who I saw outside."

"Who?"

"A girl from your school. She said she really wanted to see you."

Timmy smiles as he rushes down the stairs. The girl walks in. He stops halfway down the steps as he sees her.

It's Trixie Tang, and yet, it's not. It's her in the sense that it's still who she is, but she doesn't look like the girl that sets boys hearts aflutter.

"Hi, Timmy." She waves at him and giggles. A snort works its way in, as well. He eyes her strangely, like he's almost afraid of her.

She slowly approaches him. "I really wanted to see you."

He backs up the stairs, not taking his eyes off of her. "Oh, that's nice."

"I think we should be together."

Timmy loses his footing and falls down. "But I have so much homework to do. So, so much." She licks her lips and leaps at him. He dodges her, crawling backward on his hands and feet.

He picks himself up and makes a frantic dash for his bedroom. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

Wanda floats toward the shaken boy. "What's wrong, Timmy?"

His breathing is labored as he looks to the pink-haired fairy. "Girl trouble."


	6. Rogue WrapUp

Chapter 6 - Rogue Wrap-Up

It's the dream of many a young man: girls banging your door down, wanting to get a piece of you. Unfortunately for Timmy, it's just one girl knocking at his bedroom door, and judging from her half-crazed laughter, it's possible that Trixie may _really_ want a piece of him.

_"Timmy, I just want to talk to you!"_ All the boy can do is bar himself against the door.

"Oh, man. I liked it better when she ignored me." The young man's legs start to buckle against the rattling barrier.

_"Trixie. I'd appreciate it if you didn't break my son's door."_ Ah, good ol' mom.

Footsteps grow further and quieter. Timmy slowly falls to the floor. He starts to laugh nervously.

Wanda floats to him. "Are you all right, Timmy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He pants a little. For the first time since Trixie's onslaught, he notices that the finder is beeping faster. He gets up and walks toward the window. The beeps are slower. He paces back to the door and the beeps speed up once more.

"The signal seems to be stronger on this side. The rogue must be close by."

"Great. But how are you going to get past your fan club?" Cosmo jerks a thumb toward the door.

"I...don't know."

A 'ping' sound interrupts Timmy's train of thought. It does not go unnoticed by the boy. He crouches down and looks outside his door. One of the door hinge pins is on the floor. Timmy's eyes widen.

XxXxXxXxX

Trixie knew a thing or two about getting into locked rooms...or, at least, the person she was now becoming did. She holds a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other. The girl kneels and sticks the nail into the hinge. She taps it a few times with the hammer. With one big tap, she knocks the pin out. Mrs. Turner didn't want the door broken, but, apparently, taking it off its hinges is fair game.

Another creepy laugh escapes her lips.

XxXxXxXxX

_"Ready or not, here I come!"_

Timmy rushes away from the door. He backs toward the window, the finder tightly in his grasp.

"Cosmo, Wanda, I wish I was out of here." He requests this in a whisper, so as to preserve his secret.

With a dual wave of wands, the three of them disappear. The door is taken from the entry way. Trixie rushes in, filled with elation. She looks around for any signs of life.

"Aw! Where could he be!"

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy heads down the street, several blocks from his house. He holds the finder in front of him, the fast beeps continuing. Cosmo and Wanda trail behind him, incognito as a pair of pigeons.

"I think we've got him, guys." He smiles at his companions.

Wanda looks a little tired. "I hope...so. We've been flying...pretty fast."

"Come on. We could all use a little exercise."

The boy turns a corner, followed by the birds. Timmy stops and takes a whiff of his surroundings. "Whoa. That's rank."

"Well, don't look at me." Cosmo stops flying and puts his wings up defensively.

"No, it's..." Timmy looks to his left. Across the street is a junkyard. On the property are several wrecked automobiles, old refrigerators (as well as some of their boxes), bicycles missing wheels and handlebars and, apparently, some garbage.

"Man, I'd hate for..." The beeps from the finder are twice as fast as they ever were. "Perfect."

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy walks cautiously on the property of the junkyard. One can never tell if it's being guarded by vicious attack dogs who subsist solely on meat...regardless of how it's prepared.

Cosmo and Wanda, still in birdly form, follow closely behind. The boy hears a light rattling noise behind him. He darts his head around. A tin can falls to the ground. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Cosmo, Wanda...", he whispers. "How can I catch a fairy?"

"Well, sweetie, the most effective method for catching a fairy has always been...a butterfly net."

Timmy starts to snicker. "Are you serious?"

"Hey, don't laugh. Those things are like our kryptonite." Cosmo falls toward the ground for effect. "We're as weak as Superman is around his weakness. Luckily, he'll always be there to save the day."

Timmy looks down at him. "Superman's made up, you know?"

"Sure, just like fairy godparents." The green pigeon flies to the level of the boy's face.

"Anyway, I wish I had a butterfly net."

The birds produce their wands. They are waved...and promptly go dead.

"Oh, what's wrong?"

A copy of 'Da Rules' poofs in front of the disguised fairies. Wanda flips through it. "Apparently, we can't conjure anything that would harm a fairy. It's a special set of rules that comes into play in rare occasions."

"What?"

"Yes. There are three of them. One: a fairy may not grant a wish that would do harm to their godchild or, through inaction, allow harm to come to their godchild. Two: a fairy must grant a wish unless it conflicts with the first rule. Three: a fairy must protect itself unless such an act conflicts with the first two rules."

Timmy pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "When were they established?"

"Um...a couple of years ago. You and a few other children were what the fairy court called 'special cases', bringing these rules into effect."

"Congratulations, Timmy. You're famous!"

"Great. How are we gonna stop that fairy?" Unbeknownst to Timmy, the finder starts beeping frantically.

Wanda points to it. "Uh, Timmy?"

"He's just gonna keep on granting these wishes until someone wishes for the end of the world and we're all doomed."

Cosmo grows nervous. "Timmy..."

"Wouldn't that be just like someone to destroy the world. That's where I keep all of my stuff!"

"Timmy!" The now-fairies shout in unison.

"What?"

They point behind him. He turns around and his ire melts away, replaced by great surprise. Floating there is a fairy with dark green hair, a white shirt, jeans and a scowl on his face.

"So, you're the rogue fairy?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?" Given his slight Noo Yawk inflection, he sounds as hard-bitten and cynical as he looks.

"How long have you been floating there?"

"Since the three laws. I can't begin to tell you how much I hate that rulebook. Do this, don't do that. It's like living at home."

Timmy steps forward. "Granted, some of the rules are...ridiculous, but fairies need rules...uh..."

"Colin."

"Colin, everyone needs rules."

The rogue puts a hand up. "Please, kid. You follow the rules, you end up with a bunch of whiny humans who don't know what they want. In the end, it bites them on the butt."

Timmy recoils a bit. There was a time when he didn't know what he wanted. Thankfully, he's become more careful with his wishes.

"I give humans what they want, no second guessing, no questions asked. Take this one girl."

XxXxXxXxX

The rogue floats outside a bedroom window one night.

"It's like the only way to win Timmy's heart is if I could be like Trixie Tang." He watches as Tootie settles into bed.

_"Now there was a girl who knew what she wanted. Not a lot of people are that set on an idea."_

He waves his wand, and the sparks from it envelop the young girl. As she stirs a little, he flies away. _"I had to know who she was."_

XxXxXxXxX

_"I snuck back to Fairy World..." _The offices of Fairy World look to be on lockdown, given the security rushing around. Colin poofs himself into an office with file cabinets. _"...but you can imagine it wasn't easy getting around." _He crouches down, so as not to be detected by the lights flashing through the windows.

He opens a drawer and flips through several files. None are on her. His gaze drifts toward a folder stuck under one of the cabinets. The name on the tab reads 'Tootie Flanagan'. He pulls it free and flips through it. Colin laughs a little as he reads the information.

_"This girl is really sweet on you, yet you won't give her the time of day."_

XxXxXxXxX

"It's no wonder she wanted to change."

Timmy looks away a little, shame filling his face. "Even so, you need to fix this."

"I'm sorry, I have to what?" He puts a hand to his ear.

"Fix everything!" Wanda bellows at Colin.

"Yeah. Do you have wax in your ears?" Cosmo joins the fray.

"No more than the usual amount. Anyway, it's not gonna happen."

Timmy looks toward the rogue. "Would you excuse us a minute?"

"Whatever."

The boy turns to his fairies and forms a huddle, which they join.

"Guys, I think I may have a plan."

Wanda sounds a little worried. "It's not a dangerous one, is it, sweetie?"

Timmy shrugs. "Depends on what you mean by 'dangerous'."

"Reckless, harmful, the opposite of safe." Cosmo counts the synonyms on his fingers.

Timmy and Wanda each shoot a glare at the green-haired fairy.

"It'll be all right. Trust me." The huddle breaks and the good fairies assume defensive positions. The boy rushes off.

Wanda smirks at Colin. "So, why did you come here? Wealth, fame...women?"

"Try boredom, baby doll."

Cosmo flies in front of his wife. "Listen up. Nobody calls her 'baby doll' but me!"

Colin raises his wand. "And what are you gonna do about it, bubblehead?" He fires it at Cosmo, whose head floats off of his body. His hands reach around empty space.

Wanda waves her wand, restoring her husband to his regular form.

"Are you all right, honey?"

"Just a little light-headed." Wanda laughs and turns to the rogue.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy stands in line at a hobby store, a giant butterfly net in hand. He remembered passing a store on his way to the junkyard, but wasn't exactly sure what it sold. He figured that he'd stop in and ask for directions. It is his hope that he has enough cash for this not-so-little transaction.

Ahead of him are three people, each holding a butterfly collection under glass. What are the odds that they'd all be in this line, at this moment? The boy sighs deeply.

XxXxXxXxX

_"I hope Cosmo and Wanda are doing better than I am."_

"Come on, sweet thing, dump the dead weight and get with a real fairy." As if to drive his point home, Colin aims at Wanda, turning her into a lollipop. Cosmo tries to fly to her, but his leg is shackled to a cartoon-like trapezoidal weight.

"I'm coming, Wanda." Cosmo turns his wand on the shackles, but there is no effect. He pulls on the chain to get closer.

Colin grabs the lolly by the handle and smiles deviously. "Looks like I get first lick." The sucker seems to growl.

Cosmo looks up at his candied wife and her attacker. He snarls and uses his wand handle to pick the lock. With fire in his eyes, he breaks free and zooms into the air. He knocks the lollipop from Colin's hand and, in one fluid motion, Cosmo grabs 'Wanda' and blasts Colin with his wand.

"Are you okay, Wanda?"

"Mmmmh."

"That's okay. You don't have to say a thing." Cosmo plants a wet, sloppy kiss on the lollipop. He tries to pull away, but his lips are stuck.

A charred Colin quietly growls at the loving couple. Cosmo's gaze shifts toward the rogue. "Now, I'm gonna make you wish I never escaped." The tip of his wand glows white-hot. He rears his arm back. It looks like this is going to be big. Cosmo closes his eyes and holds his lollipop tight.

Colin's world goes dark. Muffled protests can be heard from the inside of a butterfly net. Timmy looks up at the net. "So, did I miss anything?"

Cosmo tries to explain, but his speech is garbled by his attachment to the sucker. Timmy pulls it down and looks inside. "Are you going to fix everything?"

"Suck hose water, kid. I'm not fixing nothing."

"Fine. I'll just leave you in there."

"No! It's dark in here."

"Then get fixing." Timmy's tone is low and threatening.

Colin's wand sticks out. He waves it, and a bright stream of light flows forth.

XxXxXxXxX

In a gym, a blonde woman runs on a treadmill, drawing the eyes of all the men around her. She gets wrapped in a stream of light. The woman's hair darkens, her curves disappear and her grunts get lower.

The beautiful model is once again the lowly slacker. He looks around at the gym patrons, which causes him to lose his footing and fly off the machine.

XxXxXxXxX

A woman mewls as she crawls along the branches of a tree. She blinks and shakes her head. The cat's eyes are now her regular blue ones.

She looks down and falls a little. She grabs onto the branch with both hands and moves toward the trunk. She jumps down and hits the ground. It's a good thing she was only a few feet up. The woman glances around and walks off, as if nothing is wrong.

XxXxXxXxX

A group of children play at a playground. Some on the swings, some on the monkey bars and others on the slide. The kids become more wrinkled, their movements slowing down.

The kids on the monkey bars make the mistake of jumping to the ground, which aggravates their joints. The oldsters form a collective groan as they finish on their respective devices.

XxXxXxXxX

The wand retreats into the net. "There. Happy? Now get me out of here!"

"But you've got a sentence to serve. It wouldn't be right to let you go after what you've done."

"Aw, come on!"

Floating in the air, Cosmo looks at Wanda, who is back to normal. "I'm me, again."

"You sure are." He hugs her. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Cosmo?"

"Yes, Wanda?"

"Don't call me sweetheart." She makes this request in a very swee-- kind tone.

XxXxXxXxX

Trixie stands in Timmy's room, shaking her head. Her outfit and demeanor are very much in keeping with her attitude. "What in the world am I doing _here_?" She walks out past the off-its-hinges door, a snooty expression on her face.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy walks down the street, still holding the butterfly net.

Wanda floats next to him. "Are you sure you don't need us here, sweetie?"

"No. I'm sure I can handle this on my own."

The boy stops in front of Tootie's house. He walks up the path to the door and knocks on it. On the other side is the girl's father.

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I'm here to see Tootie."

"All right. Wait here."

The door closes. Timmy stands a little nervous as he waits. He is still unsure of what he will say to the girl. In a matter of days, she had gone from invisible to the only thing that matters to him.

The door opens again. This time, Tootie is on the other end.

"Oh. Hi, Timmy."

"Hi, Tootie. I...I know that I've been kind of a jerk to you, and I'm sorry for that. If you ever want to, you know, hang out or anything like that, you can."

The shy brunette is caught between a blush and a giggle. He gives a little shrug and leans over. He kisses her on the cheek. This catches her completely by surprise.

"See you tomorrow." He walks away.

"Yeah, see you." Tootie rubs the spot where she was kissed and closes the door.

Her father walks past his dazed daughter. "Toots, are you all right?"

"I'm terrific." She calmly muses before heading up the stairs. So distracted is she, the girl doesn't notice Vicky rush down the stairs.

"Going out for a while. Don't wait up." It actually sounds like happiness in her voice.

"Where are you going?", her mother calls out.

The red-haired girl turns around. Her regular green t-shirt looks a little stretched out. Puberty has been known to make late-bloomers of a few young people, but Vicky's average seems to have gone from A...to 36D.

With a smile, she opens the door. "To make grown men cry."

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A/N: The germ of an idea came from a picture at deviant art named..."Tricksy". I took the premise (Timmy ends up with a girl who is Trixie...and yet, not) and formed this story. I really appreciate the response it's been getting and I thank everyone who reviewed. It makes me think I'm doing this for people other than myself.

Thanks for reading and have a nice day.


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